


Broken

by Pokemoon



Category: Original Work
Genre: 100 Themes Challenge, Abusive Relationships, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 00:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4327011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokemoon/pseuds/Pokemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyle frantically reaches for Luka, rolling onto his stomach to chase that broad form even though the slightest movement hurts – it hurts so badly – because it hurts even more to be alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> I had some deep and coherent stuff about consent and perspective written, but then the internet failed me, and now I'm just tired.
> 
> Basically, it's borderline extremely dubious consent and not exactly graphic, but it's not like I skimped on anything, so yeah.

“Luka?” Kyle clings weakly to the black hem of his lover’s shirt, holding the man back with what little strength he has left. His voice is soft like the dim light cast by the bedside lamp. “I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” Luka answers tiredly, shrugging off Kyle’s hand. He continues to button up his shirt, deft fingers working without pause, but stops when Kyle tugs again, more desperately this time.

“I love you,” he repeats.

Luka turns around and looks at Kyle’s limp form with forlorn eyes. Blood and come leak from between his legs onto the sweaty sheets. His lithe body is covered in red – dark red blood oozing from a split lip, fiery red marks wrapped around his neck, an angry red burn from a cigarette, and possessive red handprints pressed into his hips. “Go to sleep,” Luka sighs, finally turning around at the sight of Kyle’s own release splattered across his stomach – a testament to how much he’s been ruined, and a reminder of Luka’s own role in it.

Kyle frantically reaches for Luka, rolling onto his stomach to chase that broad form even though the slightest movement hurts – it hurts so badly – because it hurts even more to be alone. “Please don’t go,” he whines, “… please…”

“Sleep,” Luka tells him again, as he lights another cigarette – his third one of the night – and pulls open their bedroom door.

Kyle sinks back down into the dirty sheets once he hears the door click shut. He presses his face into his pillow, not sure whether he wants to scream, cry, or shoot himself then and there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What seems like an eternity passes before the door opens again. Kyle’s eyes flicker towards the figure, but he doesn’t move otherwise, knowing it’s not Luka.

Matt tentatively steps inside the quiet bedroom for his first time, feeling like he’s trespassing into a forbidden area. He had long since dubbed it the “Love Nest”, but he doesn’t see much love now that he’s finally inside. “Hey,” Matt whispers, holding in a cringe at the sight of Kyle spread out on top of the bed. Even disregarding the mess of fluids, his eyes are red and beginning to swell, his voice is surely raw from his anguished screaming, and a hypodermic needle is lying on the bedside table. “You should get cleaned up.” He sees Kyle’s eyes drift towards him apathetically before straying away again.

Kyle closes his eyes, unresponsive to Matt’s pleas for him to do _something_ until the boy finally leaves. Kyle lays in wait for death to snatch him away, convinced that he’s driven away the last person who cares about him. He eagerly welcomes the chill that settles into his bones, but nothing so merciful descends on him as his broken mind slips into a fitful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The characters and stuff come from my original work, "The Ability Hound," which you can go read if you want (there's only 1 chapter) but I might take it down and rewrite it for, like, the 4th time.
> 
> Please comment!
> 
> I had some deep and meaningful stuff about commenting, too, but I don't really want to write it again. Although, by writing this, I've written more than I originally would have.


End file.
